


Happy little accidents

by Pidgepie



Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aromantic Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gay Keith (Voltron), Homophobic Language, Hunk (Voltron) is so Pure, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Korean Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance has anxiety, Lesbian Pidge (Voltron), M/M, Modern Era, Oblivious Lance (Voltron), POV Keith (Voltron), Pidge | Katie Holt is Savage, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Rivalry, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, anxious lance, klance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-20 06:36:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16131698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pidgepie/pseuds/Pidgepie
Summary: Just a College Au that nobody asked for but we are giving it to you anyways. This was very self indulgent and now we are sharing it with you





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> We have no idea where this story is actually going???? We have a good idea for the plot, but we are playing everything by ear as we write. If you want to see something happen, just comment and we’ll try to incorporate it. Have fun reading my loves <3

Lance's POV

 

I'd seen the dude around, mostly hoped I could avoid him completely despite our obvious rivalry, but then came the incident. I am so not being dramatic either. I could've died. I mean, most likely not, because I'm not wimpy and stuff, but still.

 

I was on my way back to my dorm after my afternoon classes, minding my own damn business when his sharp shoulders completely invaded my personal space. He wasn't looking where he was going, I was walking quickly, and some sort of force canceled with another so I landed on the ground with my stuff everywhere while Keith stood over me with a blank face. I couldn't even see the expression in his eyes because of the shadow that was cast from the sun behind him and the hairs that dangled playfully below his eyebrows.

 

"Oh I'm sorry, did my existence get in the way of yours?" I asked. He had the nerve to scoff at me. I angrily pulled myself to my knees and tried to gather whatever had fallen out of my hands. It was just a few textbooks and my phone, I made a point to grab that first before the boy decided to be helpful. "Seriously, you'd think to use your brain, but I guess you'd need one in the first place," I shot.

 

"Please, I'm not the one still in Calculus BC," he snorted while picking up my last textbook. The edges were frayed and smashed from the multiple times I'd shoved it into my bag. Looking at it between his smooth fingers made me realize the small likelihood that I was going to get my deposit back on it. I glared at him in a way that I hope was threatening.

 

"I was runner-up valedictorian in my high school, so I think I'm smarter than you."

 

"Runner-up? You see, I won." He was definitely mocking me. The turn of his brow, the asymmetry in his smile, there was even a glint of challenge in his eyes still dripping in shadows. I stood completely and took the textbook from him. My bag was already stuffed full but I managed to push the textbook in most of the way.

 

"You know what Keith, give me one reason I should care." He shouldered his backpack calmly.

 

"Something tells me you already do, Second Place." He narrowed his eyes at me. "Next time you try to blame someone for your own clumsiness, try walking on the right side of the hall dipwad." He shoved me lightly away from him as a gesture of finality.

 

"Try walking on the right side of the hall!" I mocked toward his retreating figure. With a huff and a roll of my eyes, I continued my journey to my dorm.

 

Little thoughts bounced around my head like an endless Plinko machine. I remembered why I hated that guy so much. First, there was his constant arrogance. Plink. Then, there was his stupid thing where he was always a little bit better than me. Plunk. Not to mention his rudeness, plink, his ego, plook, his questionable fashion sense, plunk, or his goddamn mullet, PLINK.

 

Whatever, I just needed a cold shower and about three gallons of coffee with Red Bull shots. Maybe some vodka. It was going to be a long night of studying.

 

When I got to my dorm, I don't even know what I expected. Hunk laying shirtless on the kitchen counter cutting strawberries with one hand and twirling a whisk with another wearing a horrendously ridiculous hat with what I'm pretty sure was a Go-Pro, that was definitely not it.

 

"Umm..." I started.

 

"Lost a bet," Hunk responded without stopping whatever the activity was, he hadn't even glanced at me.

 

"I see," were the only words I could muster before all my attention went to the llama piñata that I hadn't noticed before. "And the piñata?"

 

"Pidge filled it with bagels, she wanted to have a surprise when she forgot what she put in there in a month or so."

 

"You guys are weird."

 

"You wanna know what flavor, don't you?"

 

"Naturally," I smiled and finally went to sit at the table while Hunk did whatever the mystery activity was. Homework could wait. "But tell me, what the hell are you doing?"

 

"I'm making strawberry jam shirtless, with a whisk, while laying on my kitchen counter in a funny hat that Pidge designed. I have to anonymously send the video to my culinary arts teacher when I'm done. Oh, and the flavor is blueberry."

 

"How on Earth does she get so specific," I wonder. Vaguely, I recall a bet I'd lost to the little fireball. She never did except just cash, it was like that was too easy for her. She liked to watch her victims squirm.

 

"She's a different breed," said Hunk as he began to transfer some goo into a jar.

 

"Like a chihuahua rottweiler mix on cocaine."

 

"Exactly like that." He tied a pretty violet ribbon around the top of the jar and admired his work. "Done! Why do I feel like I've accomplished a far greater task than the one that was set before me? Was it merely the weight behind the request? Or the destiny of the result?"

 

"With that kind of talk, you can write my English Lit paper for me."

 

"Is that the one for Professor Genoe?" He rolled off the counter and stumbled slightly before finding his balance. I tossed him a random shirt that I hope was his. Only when he slipped it on did he notice the peculiar rust colored stain near the hem. He sniffed it.

 

"Yeah, what's that stain?" I ask with a curled lip. My mom always taught me to remove a stain before it set, but that shirt was beyond saving.

 

"Dunno, I'm hoping it's not blood, or subconscious me has some explaining to do."

 

"That's where Jeremy went..." I laughed. Jeremy was our third roommate that was convinced Hunk and I were members of a cult and moved out without another word. We liked to tease that he had been apprehended by the cult leaders, that he had known too much, the council members concluded that his life should be terminated. It got to the point that everything was Jeremy's soul or long-lost cousin. Hunk laughed along before sitting down across from me.

 

"I heard that essay was going to be graded on a curve," he said, transitioning back to our previous topic.

 

"I hope so, I can't afford to fail," I told him sincerely. He looked at me kind of funny, I was rarely this serious about school topics.

 

"I thought that class was easy, didn't you have an A?"

 

"I did. I do, I just need to get a higher score than Keith."

 

"Oh God, seriously? What did he do?" asked Hunk. All too familiar with my rivalry with the mullet guy.

 

"He ran into me in the hallway, and for that, he will suffer."

 

 


	2. The Lit Paper

Pidge's POV

 

"Katie, wake up!" My roommate urged, her words suddenly blurring into my dream.

 

"Stop calling me Katie, my name's Pidge."

 

"God gave you that name, it's a dishonor to Him not to use it." That was how all our conversations went. You guessed it, my roommate is a bible thumping maniac who plays the hundred layer challenge with her makeup every day.

 

"Tell God I'll meet him in Hell I just have to finish screwing your mom," I groaned while still rubbing the sleep from my eyes. When my glasses were on and my will to live was the highest it can be, I got to see the beautiful shock I had put Grace in. Her eyes wide and angry and her arms crossed to gesture something akin to warding off evil. A rosy patch stretched across her face like a bad bronzer.

 

"One of your friends is waiting outside for you," she spat with a dramatic spin away from me.

 

I sat up and checked what I was wearing. A plain baggy T-shirt, underwear, and fuzzy socks. I needed pants, bra, and shoes. I pushed my glasses further up my nose and scanned the piles of clothes surrounding my side of the room.

 

Under a half-eaten grilled cheese sandwich I spotted something that looked like a pant leg, nearby there was a bright orange sports bra that would suffice. I grabbed the random clothes and put them on before I went to the bathroom. What should I bother with today? My hair was fairly short, it didn't need a brush. I snuffed my armpit. Yikes. Deodorant was a must. However, I grabbed a loose breath mint instead of brushing my teeth. Today, laziness would win.

 

"Pidge! You comin'?" I heard Lance's voice from the corridor.

 

"Yeah, hold your tits!" I hollered back. Lance and I had the same Physics class and usually walked together when I got up in time. The last task I had was watering my plants. My bunk was close to the window and had a small ledge where I grew everything from succulents to orchids. Before leaving. I pulled a string the was attached to a pulley that tipped a large container into a series of plastic tubes with varying hole sizes for each plant. Once the water reached the end, the pressure pushed an ice cube down the ramp into my orchids. I get shit for my elaborate design, but it's efficient.

 

"Here's your coffee," offered Lance once I had finally reached the door.

 

"Yessss..." The Café in the lobby between the girls' and boys' dorms served the best dark roast since sliced bread. I happily excepted the offer.

 

"Two sugars, right?" asked Lance.

 

"Always, let's go." The halls were ghosty this early in the morning. Basically, nobody signed up for classes earlier than ten in the morning, Lance and I got the short end of the stick. We had to be in class bright and early at 7:30.

 

Lance was chugging an espresso shot and he looked kind of like death. Usually, he spent a weird amount of time on his facial routine and was very disciplined about getting his 'beauty sleep'. Something had obviously gotten in the way of that last night.

 

"What happened to you, did you get laid last night?" I queried.

 

"I wish, I was up all night writing my Lit paper with Hunk. I'm so tired, I don't even have the energy to tell my friend she forgot her shoes." I paused to raise an eyebrow at him. His eyes were squinted like he'd gotten something wrong. "Oh wait, that's you. You forgot your shoes." He pointed at my feet that were, to prove his point, still wearing nothing but a pair of fuzzy socks.

 

"Shit." I stopped walking for a moment to think about how much I cared. Turns out, very little. "Too late now. Mr. Lobos will have to deal with it," I decided.

 

"Figured you would say that. Do you have any food? I'm starving," he said with a dramatic lengthening of his state and some hand gestures.

 

"Maybe, but you shouldn't trust it unless you're really desperate." I started to rifle through the front pocket of my bag. Last week or so I put an apple in here I'm sure. Squish. There it is. Gross. I kept searching. I think there was a bag of nuts somewhere in that tinier pocket. My fingers ran over the smoothness of a plastic bag. I grabbed it and pulled it out. They were mostly crushed, but inside was an assortment of peanuts and almonds that didn't look poisonous. I held them out for Lance to inspect.

 

"To replace the nuts you didn't get last night," I said while holding out the bag of nuts. 

 

"Ha, ha, very funny. I'll have you know, this bag of nuts pales in comparison to mine."

 

"I'm sure," I said with a smirk. "Don't eat them to fast, you might hurt yourself." 

 

Lance wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and opened the door to the lecture hall where the class was held.

 

"Mr. McLain, Ms. Holt, you're late," tutted our professor. "And you're not wearing shoes." He was a wiry old man with a saggy face and an armadillo back. His eyes were too small for his head and his fingers too bony for his palms. He was wearing his usual tweed jacket and patterned shirt. I couldn't help but comment back at him. 

 

"Mr. Lobos, you're married, and you're not wearing a ring." Where it usually sat was a pale line from lack of tan. The lecture hall full of everyone that had arrived on time hesitantly started to chuckle at my comment. The noise was intensified when he sputtered out a few unintelligible noises. He seemed to understand what I'd implied and was greatly disturbed by it.

 

"Hey, Lobos, was it a Viagra problem or did she finally open her eyes?" Some dude in the back added between fits of laughter. 

 

"In five seconds I will continue my lecture, anyone who makes a noise after that point will fail the midterm and get a referral to the Dean, do I make myself clear?" The laughing and jokes quieted to a dull murmur. "I mean silent!" Silence cracked through the hum of voices. "Take your seats you two, don't be late again."

 

"Yes, sir," said Lance. I walked silently to the pair of open seat Lance and I had claimed earlier in the year. Students glanced carefully at us as we walked back to our spots. One guy even quietly slipped a piece of paper into Lance's hood pocket so Professor Lobos wouldn't notice. He didn't start teaching until we had both reached our seats and pulled them back with screeches and scrapes, not unlike a cat sitting on your homework with its tail in your face. 

 

"Now, before I was interrupted, I was beginning to introduce a new project..." That's about where I stopped listening and tried to peak over Lance's shoulder at the piece of paper he was handed. He too had noticed the gesture and was reading the paper discreetly. The chicken scratch on the page was too messy for me to read so I tried to bump his arm to get his attention.

 

It didn't work. He just kind of stared blankly at the paper and looked back to who had given it to him. I'd have to ask him later if I gave a damn about this credit. Sadly, I did. 

 

The rest of the class my brain inserted a series of thoughts in response to the lecture. Don't worry, you know that. I bet that's in the textbook. God, he reminds me of Mr. Krabs drunk uncle. Before long, he was dismissing a crowd of college students already on their way out the door over the ruckus of fluttering papers and fast zippers. 

 

"What's the note?" I asked once the majority of people weren't paying attention or had already left. Lance shoved some stuff into his bag and started to stand.

 

"Oh." He turned to face me. "Third-row guy appreciates your bitchiness."

 

"I see."

 

"Were you hoping for more fireworks?"

 

"Well yeah, a secret note, silent gestures, messy handwriting, perfect beginning to a murder mystery. It feels like a waste," I complained. He laughed at me as the door slumped closed behind us.

 

"Hey, do you mind reading over my Lit paper?" He asked. 

 

"The one you stayed up all night working on?"

 

"Yeah, it needs to be perfect." When Lance got that determined look it was best to just do what he said. I learned that when he said he'd climb a flagpole and ended up burning the American flag. It's a miracle he wasn't tried for treason. 

 

"Ok, wanna go to the coffee shop?"

 

"Sure," he said with a smile. "Which way is that?" He glanced from side to side at the midst of people that had awakened to seize the day with the least amount of work possible. 

 

"Left."

 

"Right."

 

"I just said left."

 

"I was saying right, like, right. Fuck, yes, I agree with you we shall move left with our feet," he rambled. I grabbed his shoulders and turned him to the left. 

 

"Walk." I moved around to his side and began to lead the way to the Café with awesome coffee and tile floors. It wasn't far, but apparently, he still couldn't manage to remember where he was going.

 

"You pick a seat, I have to waz," said Lance before disappearing around the corner to the bathroom.

 

 

The perfect seat was one that is far enough from the entrance so you don't get in and out traffic, but close enough so you don't have to fight your way to leave. It had to be within viewing range of the bathroom exit so Lance's questionable direction skills didn't have to be put to the test. Most importantly, it needed to be a window seat. After some extreme overthinking and a few apologies for spacing out, I chose a booth with a tear in the cushion. It had character. I didn't even get the chance to get my laptop completely set up before Lance returned from the bathroom and moved to sit across from me in the booth.

 

"That was fast," I commented.

 

"Not really, I bet you just took forever finding a seat," he mocked. I hated that he was right. "I'll send you my paper."

 

"'Kay, what's it supposed to be about?" Lance sighed heavily in response as he typed in his password.

 

"Describe three main themes in Charles Dickens' Bleak House and how they relate to one another," he drabbled in a taunting tone. Then he dragged his finger across his throat in a 'kill me' gesture. I raised my eyebrows at him and opened the email I received with his essay attached. This was going to be a long day.


	3. Shakespeare, What A Tragedy

Keith's POV

 

A couple of days ago, I bumped into Lance in the hallway. It wasn't even that bad but he ended up on the floor and yelling at me. It's as if he had some sick desire to always start something. He even has this idea in his head that we're longtime rivals or something. Honestly, I haven't even properly met the guy. That is, I hadn't until Professor Genoe assigned us to be partners for this Shakespeare thing. I knew I hated Shakespeare for a reason. 

 

"Alright everyone, for the next four weeks we will be studying The Taming of a Shrew, by our old friend William Shakespeare. I'll put you into pairs based on your overall grade so you are paired with someone at your level. I'll assign each of you a scene and at the end, you'll act out a modernized version for the class. The lines should be memorized." Cue collective groan. "Oh, boo hoo you're fine. I also want a hard copy of your script and a written analysis of your scene, questions?" she finished. 

 

"I have a question," said a girl with her dark hair swaying in her face from a loose ponytail. 

 

"Go ahead."

 

"If the scene has more than two characters, how do we act that out?" She twirled her pencil and waited patiently for the answer. Professor Genoe smiled almost mischievously. 

 

"I guess you're just gonna have to get creative," she said. The girl did not seem to like that response. 

 

"If that's all, I'll call out your groups." She began down the list. Standing at the front of the room he looked so small. Being one of the few female teachers in the school, you could notice her trying to compensate for seeming weak. She wore loud colors and spoke with confidence. I'd always admired that about her, she was up for the challenge. Her angular face and pointed nose that caught the end of her wide-framed reading glasses only emphasized her strong stance. The bamboo professor. Grew too quickly, rarely swayed, always headed higher places. She was great.

 

"Lance McLain and Keith Kogane, you have Act 5 Scene 2." Nevermind, she is the Devil's spawn. How could she pair me with that menace? How was I supposed to get any work done with him as my partner? I nearly walked out of the class in protest but I held on to that sliver of self-control that was still duct taped to my front windshield like a hamster with its foot stuck on a spot of glue. It squeaked tauntingly. Stupid hamster. 

 

Around me, life was still happening for some reason. She had continued to read off names until everyone had been called and most of the partners began to confer about when they would get together to complete the project. Some were negotiating how long they could blow it off before it became a problem. I heard one guy tell his partner that they should base their scene off of this 'totally radical rave, dude, there were balloons filled with weed.' I hate to admit I was curious how that worked. 

 

Reluctantly, I stood to join my partner who was marching towards the front of the room with purpose. I got there only a couple strides after he did but already he was berating the teacher for her choice in groups. 

 

"I can't work with him," he said matter-of-factly. 

 

"Is that so."

 

"Yeah, he's a jerk, he's inefficient, he doesn't know how to cooperate." Professor Genoe nodded along with tight lips in a hair of a smile as she reorganized some papers on her desk. She blatantly couldn't care less. "He talks to much about stupid stuff-"

 

"I talk too much? Please, you never stop," I put in. 

 

"You see what I have to put up with? Please, you have to reconsider, put me in a group of three, make me work on my own, I don't care. Just don't make me work with the guy whose hair is stuck back in time and never where's a brighter color than dark grey," he rambled and I could feel myself getting angrier. Professor Genoe kept failing at hiding her amusement.

 

"Oh yeah? Well, maybe I don't want to be stuck with the runner-up," I shot back.

 

"Runner-up? Are you serious? That was one thing, I've beaten you at so many things since then, you got lucky one time-"

 

"I wouldn't say beating you every year at the regional robotics tournament was dumb luck."

 

"So you do remember that! I can't believe you! You know what-"

 

"Boys," the professor interjected. We both turned to face her. She looked even more entertained by the looks on our faces than she had been by the entire conversation. "The answer is no."

 

"What," I deadpanned. 

 

"You heard me, you two are working together whether you like it or not and I expect great work from the two of you. Equal, if not better, to what you've given me in the past. Why do you think I gave you the final scene?" Lance looked flustered. I guess he actually thought this was going to work.

 

"But-" he started.

 

"Nope. Work together or earn a zero." She turned away from the two of us and directed her gaze towards the same girl who had asked the question earlier in the class. "Can I help you?" The two of us had been quickly forgotten as they talked quietly about more details of the assignment. 

 

I sat down in a seat near where my stuff was and Lance made a point of putting a seat in between us. I took a deep breath. For the assignment.

 

"Okay, so it looks like we're working together, where do you want to start?" I asked while doing my best not to look at him directly.

 

"I want to do this on my own."

 

"Me too, but since we have to work together I just thought-"

 

"Maybe you could just let me take care of it and do as I say," he took out his copy of the play and started taking notes on his laptop. 

 

"Okay, I'm trying to work together with you, but apparently you've got a stick shoved so far up your ass it's broken brain tissue!" I told him louder than was necessary.

 

"Work together? More like trying to take everything over like you always do and take all the credit for work you put on me!"

 

"Lance, that's exactly what you just tried to do!"

 

"I was offering a way out of us having to tolerate each other!" We were both on the verge of yelling at each other and as I looked around the room I saw several people glancing our way. 

 

"You were just trying to prove that you're better than me because of this stupid rivalry you made up," I whisper yelled. 

 

"Made up! Every chance you get you rub a victory in my face," he hissed.

 

"You're seriously going to make me fail this assignment?" 

 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Someone to blame your failure on besides yourself?" He glared at me with blue eyes that had suddenly become a lot darker. It was like he knew exactly what pissed me off. Like he knew how much I loathed that personal trait of mine. How I could never blame anyone but myself. I wanted to yell yes, it would be great to be able to blame Lance for failing this assignment, but in reality, I'd always blame myself. For not trying hard enough. For not compromising. For yelling right now when I should be scheduling a time to meet up. I took another deep breath.

 

"Okay. You are- you're right...ish, I guess," I stammered and forced myself to settle back into my seat. 

 

"Oh I get it, you're trying to take the high road I see. Be the better person," he said with malice. He hoped the words would sting. 

 

"You never quit do you?" I shook my head at him. He focused his eyes back on the book and flipped to our scene at the end before all of the acknowledgments. The keyboard made a few clicking noises under his fingertips and he looked at me almost sincerely. Almost.

 

"Never."


	4. Photography club

Pidge's POV

 

The room smelled like deodorant that bit off more than it could chew, tropical breeze hand sanitizer, and zombie brides. There was a rotten something in the corner that nobody bothered to further investigate and a trash can filled to the brim with everything from used tampons to crayon drawings of Kimpossible. The table was four filing cabinets arranged in a rectangle and a piece of plywood so heavily graffitied it could've been a Jackson Pollock. The other end of the room housed the only outlet in the room, a series of extension cords, a pile of broken desks, and a pipe hanging from the ceiling that nobody dared touch. Concrete walls and a ceiling of air ducts covered in tin foil, ready for the alien invasion, rat traps and greasy concrete floor, a makeshift darkroom and a cardboard box of used towels. It all came together to create the photography room. It used to be a supply room but we had to get creative, the arts weren't exactly appreciated at this school. 

 

The photography club was small. Only six of us, but we had become a tightknit group since the start of the first semester two months ago. There was Shay, Hunk's girlfriend who was quiet and determined with almond skin and dark hair. Lorelei had a loud mouth and a twin sister with questionable hobbies. The two of them were identical down to the fireworks of freckles and the roots of their frizzy blonde hair, but underneath, they were very different. Benjamin was the president who always tried to keep us organized, the very opposite of his untidy hair and choice of wardrobe. Giovana was a Brazilian transfer student who just watched through leaf green eyes. Her hair was the same color as her amber freckles and her skin barely a shade lighter. Finally, Keith, the one who always wore black and sat speechless with his arms crossed. Lance had something against him that I never really understood, but that was Lance.

 

"Does anyone know if Benji is actually going to show up? If not I might start stripping to attract more members," said Lorelei.

 

"They would have to enjoy it first," chirped Giovana, she tended to drag out the vowels and stress the consonants as a part of her accent. Lorelei just glared at her. 

 

"I know plenty of people that've enjoyed it, for your information," she responded and crossed her feet dramatically on the table with loud combat boots. Shay started to add to the artwork on the plywood with the end of one of her acrylic nails. I kept editing a picture from last week. 

 

"Maybe he was claimed by the Illuminati," I suggest calmly. Keith raised an eyebrow at me. Lorelei outright laughed, Shay almost broke her nail and Giovana kept staring blankly at the door, waiting for the president to arrive. 

 

"Maybe he went to look for those mysteriously misplaced moon landing tapes," Keith said carefully. Almost like he was testing the waters of the Dead Sea, wanting to believe that he could actually float, but not entirely sure. 

 

"Or he fell off the edge of the flat earth." Keith laughed at me and put down his camera.

 

"Did you get one of the T-shirts?" He asked in a tone that implied he had one as well. 

 

"Yes."

 

"Awesome, mine's one of the first editions."

 

"I got mine symbolically, as a woman of science and space, I draw a line," I told him.

 

"I get that, I don't actually think the earth is flat," he clarified.

 

 "But the T-shirt is so damn comfortable!" I continue.

 

"Right!" He was suddenly exited in a way I didn't think Dark Emo Guy could be.

 

"Okay nerds, shut up and listen, we have a legitimate job," announced Benjamin as he took a seat between me and a filing cabinet.  

 

"Great, you decided to show up just as I was starting to have fun." I made sure to emphasize my annoyance. 

 

"Sorry for cockblocking the nerdgasm, but what I have to say is more important." He started to pass out some papers that he had in his hand. They were labeled and highlighted with everyone's name and a key to show which color corresponded to which person. That dude was crazy organized to be an art major. "On your sheets, you will find color coordinated and time stamped jobs for each and every one of you as we approach the wedding."

 

"Hold up, since when are we getting married? I mean, I love ya'll, but we ain't that close," said Lorelei as she started to fold her sheet into an airplane.

 

"We're not getting married. We are the photographers for this random couple who wants to have their wedding on campus. Apparently, they went to school here, their photographer bailed last minute so they are convincing their said little hearts that we will be sufficient." I nodded cautiously. 

 

"I have a question," began Shay.

 

"Shoot."

 

"Do we get paid?" Everybody simultaneously turned to look at Benjamin who had hesitated slightly in answering the question.

 

"Come on guys, we are being offered the glorious opportunity of donating our time and improving our artistic craft for several hours of our free time on a Saturday as if we have nothing better to do, honestly we should expect nothing in return for this glorious opportunity of hairline slavery or servitude. Depending on the level of torturous agony we endure, I'm disappointed in you guys," he finished dramatically and in return, he got cold blank stares like that of a marble statue aged with time. "Yes, we get paid."

 

"Do we get to eat the food? How much do we get?" pushed Lorelei.

 

"You aren't permitted to have a serving of the dinner, that's for the guests. We get paid ten dollars an hour each. Does anyone else want to devalue the experience with expectations of rewards?"

 

"So, technically, we aren't allowed to eat the food, but is anyone going to actually stop us? Can I bring a cooler bag?" I wondered.

 

"You have a cooler bag?" Keith looked at me quizzically.

 

"Of course I have a cooler bag, how else am I supposed to steal free food?" I said.

 

"The food isn't free, the bride and groom-" started Benjamin.

 

"It's free if you don't pay for it," interrupted Lorelei. 

 

"Yes, and thank you for that analysis, but-" he tried again to no success. Lorelei and Giovana began to talk about something to do with the frat party last week and this guy so drunk he tried to play his own version of fruit ninja that involved plastic utensils, zip ties, and a fair amount of high-velocity fruit. While Lorelei explained the rules Shay continued to scratch what was beginning to look like a cartoon dog pissing on a nearly shapeless creature, I'd have to wait and see. I stopped paying attention when I heard Keith's chair turn to face me.

 

"Have you ever noticed that Benjamin seems to have a thick layer between his brain and the rest of civilization?" he said.

 

"He also never wears socks," I glanced at his feet that were bare underneath his muddy white nurse shoes.

 

"I wonder if he has foot fungus." We both took a second to peer into the crevice between his foot and the shoe.

 

"What the hell are you staring at?" Benjamin demanded.

 

"Nothing-" I started.

 

"Your feet are beautiful-" Keith said at the same time. He raised an eyebrow. Well, I guess we're running with this.

 

"It would be an honor to smother your feet in peanut butter and remove it with my tongue." I hear Keith gag like a cat next to me. I elbowed him in the rib. He gave me a look that I returned with extra fanatics. Benjamin went back to whatever he was doing with folders and a label maker. I scribbled something on a piece of my physics homework. 

 

It read: I challenge you to a battle to see who can get Benjamin to get so uncomfortable he leaves. 

 

Keith wrote back. You're on. 

 

Then he stood up and walked over to Benjamin. Standing behind him he leaned in slightly, Benjamin seemed not to notice. He breathed in through his nose, smelling him fervently Benjamin stopped what he was doing. He glanced at me and I tried my best to look innocent.  

 

"Aah, I smell that you are in season. Want to breed?" He purred. I choked on spit. Benjamin turned so red he should've come with a warning label. "Your turn," Keith whispered to me and sat back down. 

 

I cleared my throat quietly and went through a mental list of prompts for this very occasion. I'm always prepared. 

 

"You have lovely skin." I put my hands on both sides of his face and squeezed pretending to admire his supple cheeks. I looked into his eyes intently. "I can't wait to wear it." He pushed me away and I pushed down the urge to laugh and instead settled for a strained smile. He scooched his chair further away with a deliberate squeak. Keith walked over to him. 

 

I patted him encouragingly, "Go get 'em, tiger." 

 

Benjamin groaned excessively. Then Keith sat on his lap and put an arm around his shoulder. In a hushed voice, he spoke.

 

"I have been sent here to fulfill the secret wishes you'd never utter out loud." Benjamin steeled his face.

 

"Is that so?" He pushed.

 

"Yes. I have to say, it's been awhile since I've added to my collection." I wasn't sure whose face was better. Keith's sly smirk or Benjamin's horror and confusion. Benjamin stood up, forcing Keith to flop back onto his feet.

 

"And, I'm out. Bye fuckers," he said as he gave a short wave and slammed the door to the storeroom.

 

Lorelei, Giovana, and Shay all stared at the door in amazement. Never before had anyone succeeded in making Benjamin leave a meeting early. Lorelei began to clap slowly.

 

"Well damn you two, you defeated the great emperor," she laughed. Keith and I joined in and exchanged high fives with everyone.

 

"Keith?"

 

"Yeah, Pidge?"

 

"I believe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."


End file.
